"With those who do not give a damn about baseball, I can only sympathize. I do not resent them. I am even willing to concede that many of them are physically clean, good to their mothers, and in favor of world peace. But while the game is on, I can't think of anything to say to them."

Would it be ok to make A-Rod some kind of honorary "Captain Clutch"? Except not "captain," just maybe "King Clutch"? Because when you think about it, who do you want at bat when you're trailing in the bottom of the 9th?

Alexander Emmanuel Rodriguez.

Last night's game was reason #32,945 why you don't change the channel. Ever. I don't care if you're up by 5 in the first or down by 2 in the 9th. Score is no object to the New York Yankees. It's like they play by my little league coach's rule of thumb: "The score means nothing. Just hit the ball."

And that's what they did.

It was a delightful snack of a 1st inning, as they teed off on the Faberge egg of a pitcher. 5 runs before Dice-BallInPlay could even record an out.

It was looking like we were cruising to an easy win. And that was EXACTLY what I needed. I was lying on the couch going in an out of sleep, as I nursed a 100.4 fever ("a baby mouse bite fever" aka just a little fever, not a fever induced by the bite of a baby mouse). It was really like a bizarro dream sequence.

I was half awake, and all of a sudden the score is 6-5. Confusing.

It doesn't help that a stadium full of fans cheering HUUUGGGHHHEEES sounds an awful lot like BOOOOOO. I HATE that. Same problem with Moose and Goose. Can't we change that to cheering PHILLLLLLLL? Just a suggestion.

I'd venture to say that PHILLLLLL's downfall came on the heels of a rough AB with Pedroia, who fouled off about 100 of #65's best stuff before roping in a double. Hughes' stock was all but depleted. He immediately gives up a 3-run bomb to Drew that brought in Scutaro and Pedroia.

Then the bullpen horror show flickered on.

Fortunately (sort of) this was about when my fever was pushing the envelope and creeping higher towards the medium mouse bite range, which meant I could barely focus my eyes on the shit show that was going on. I actually assumed I was dreaming it, seriously.Top of the 6th: Boone Logan gives up a solo to V-Mart.Top of 8th: Chan Ho Park comes in. And you know what you are, Park? DO YOU?

He's not allowed anywhere near the field again. He shouldn't be, anyway. Unless there's some clause in the clubhouse contract that says we need to honor the legacy of Kyle Farnsworth, Tanyon Sturtze, and their auspicious predecessors, each and every season.

He accomplishes the following:My favorite park is V-Mart's 2nd ding in about 8 minutes. My 2nd favorite part is how much wood he got on it.

432 f%$^&ing feet.

Good God.

Back to back homeruns from Youk and V-Mart. The Yanks are losing. Our bullpen is in trouble. I guess it has to be, since they're probably all like talking to themselves saying, "Man, if Mo couldn't get us out of the game yesterday, how are WE supposed to do it?"

You know what kills me? That if they asked Mo to, he'd have GLADLY come in to pitch last night. He would have started if they needed him to. But Joba Chamberlain throws 23 pitches the night before and all of a sudden he's spent. This was the same guy everyone aggressively campaigned as a starter just a year ago, right? JUST CHECKING.

But every Yankee fan knows that this means nothing.

And all you had to do was glance into the broadcast booth to know that everything was just being prepared for a dramatic comeback.

Cervelli gets beaned and he ain't happy about it. As a rule, I'd say an Italian with a mushroom helmet is the last guy you should be drilling. A.) He's got a mushroom cap on. Lay off. B.) He may or may not have "family" that can see no trace of you is ever found again.

Oh, and plus it puts the winning run on base.

And gives Tims the chance to shame you.

Which he did.

The celebration at home plate was one for the books. It was pure delirium. If you look at A-Rod during the whole thing, it's like he has no idea what the hell is going on. He's just running around like he's got some plan or method to his madness, but nope he doesn't. Just pointedly running around like a wind-up toy that some kid keeps picking up and then setting down in a different direction.

I've referenced this before, but in honor of our first pie-off, it bears repeating. (And oh the sweet irony of this being from Red Sox Nation patriarch, Bill Simmons.)

Finally, we need to name the goofy tradition that happens after every game-winning homer now, when the batter gets mobbed by his teammates and they all jump and down in a happy circle for a few seconds. Right now, I'm going with the "Walkoff Mosh Pit" just to make paragraphs like the following a little more efficient:

Isn't it weird that you can tell exactly how well a baseball team gets along by its Walkoff Mosh Pit? If there's some half-hearted jumping and it disperses quickly, then they hate each other. If it's a raucous mosh pit that goes on for three seconds too long, followed by 15 more seconds of hugging and helmet slapping, then they love each other. If it's somewhere in between, then they are ambivalent. And it's really that cut and dry.

Amazing, amazing game, Yanks.

Oh, and congrats to Javy for his hard-fought win. As if the night couldn't have gotten any more backwards than it was. Is anyone really surprised by all this?